Page 42 of Claws and Contrivances
“No one needs to worry about me.” Really, how many times did she have to repeat that fact? As Rose shoved the bookcase another half a foot forwards, the light from her candle spilled faintly across a darkened wooden floor beyond. “Just stall them for as long as possible!”
She nipped through the narrow opening and turned to close the bookcase behind her.
A tall body stopped her, pushing through. “I did say it wasn’t sensible to explore this house on your own, didn’t I?” Mr Aubrey said mildly.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” For such a gentle man, he could be absurdly stubborn – but with no more time to argue, they pushed the bookcase shut together.
Darkness closed around them both.
A romantic person might have found this utterly thrilling. Fortunately, Rose was no longer romantic, and she reminded herself of that firmly as she turned around, lifting the candlestick high.
“Well.” She let out a huff of breath. “Not a single skull in sight.”
There was a long pause. Finally, Mr Aubrey enquired, “Were you expecting to find any?”
“... Of course not.” Still, any of her aunt’s fictional villains would have been ashamed to claim such a paltry hidden room as the one revealed before them. Barely three feet wide, it was low-ceilinged and apparently empty. As she stepped forwards, searching for any alternate exit, Rose whispered, “Do you think this was built as a priest-hole in Tudor times?”
“Perhaps.” Mr Aubrey’s breath ruffled against her hair in the warm, close space; she was all too aware of his tall figure following just behind. He had to lean slightly over her to avoid bumping his head on the low ceiling. If he reached out, he could easily touch both of the walls that closed around them ... or wrap his arms around her waist to pull her even closer.
What? No! Rose yanked her wayward imagination into line. She might be exploring a secret passageway with a most appealing gentleman, but that was no excuse to indulge in wanton fantasies!
“Is that a door handle?” Mr Aubrey enquired.
“Thank goodness.” Rose seized upon it with relief.
This door opened inwards, forcing her and Mr Aubrey to shuffle back into the cramped space behind them with an unavoidable amount of breathless bumping along the way. Still, as soon as she managed to slip through the opening, Rose firmly dismissed all of those inconvenient, tingling sensations that had plagued her. “Aha!” She swung the candlestick triumphantly to reveal the narrow stairway leading upwards. “I knew he’d be keeping them on an upper storey! That’s why Rhiannon was nosing around up there.”
Mr Aubrey’s long fingers closed around her arm, stilling the movement of the candlestick. “Perhaps I ought to lead the way at this point.”
“What? Why?” Rose half-turned and found his face tipped disconcertingly close to her own.
He was wearing his most thoughtful frown, which really shouldn’t be so endearing. And yet, she had to curl the fingers of her free hand together to stop herself from reaching out to trace that now familiar line between his eyebrows. Worse yet, as his warm breath stirred against her forehead, she couldn’t help remembering how delicious his mouth had tasted against hers two nights ago.
If she only leaned forwards a little further now ... and then rose to her tiptoes, perhaps—
“Those stairs may not be safe,” he said. “If I go first—”
“Then I wouldn’t be able to pull you free.” Rose fell back onto the flats of her feet with a thud. “I’m smaller than you, remember?”
“I ... am aware of that.” That teasingly bare patch of skin between his cravat and his chin flexed in a most distracting swallow.
“Well, then.” She jerked her gaze firmly back to his face. “It makes far more sense for you to rescue me from any rotten floorboards if my foot goes through them. But really, if Sir Gareth walks these stairs often enough to leave a mark on the bookcase outside, I hardly think they’ll collapse under either of us.”
“Mmm ...” Mr Aubrey sounded unhappy, but he released her arm and stepped away, too much of a scholar to argue such a rational, reasonable point.
Repressing a growl of irrational frustration, Rose started swiftly up the staircase before him.
She refused to touch the spot on her arm that tingled, most unreasonably, in protest of his absence.
The sound of rustling and low, wordless noises above them formed a perfect distraction. “We’re almost there!” She turned to whisper the news over her shoulder, and Mr Aubrey swiftly yanked his gaze upwards, his lean cheeks flushing betrayingly in the candlelight.
Hmm. No matter what Serena thought, he had apparently not entirely failed to notice her figure after all. Rose bit back an unladylike smirk as she quickened her steps to the top of the first flight of stairs, where a plain wooden door blocked her way. She turned the handle ...
And her jaw dropped as she stepped into a stinking, crowded room of misery. “Dear Lord!”
Less than twenty minutes ago, she’d wondered: How many dragons could one man have? Apparently, the answer was, far too many for any of them to receive the care they deserved.
All remnants of any romantic thrill vanished in the face of this grimy horror.
